I did’t know there was such a thing as National Bourbon Day, but it makes me happy.
It also may explain the day’s oddities.
I jumped on the motorcycle and rode down to the gas station this morning, where I saw our local Santa Claus. At least, he looks like Santa Claus. Old guy, big belly, long white beard. Drives a rusted-out, dinged-up old van and I once saw him—complete with Santa hat—sucking down a nasty gas station burger in said van. This time, sans hat, he was making a purchase at the counter: a bottle of wine, a six pack of beer, and a Dove bar. Quite an odd mix at 9:15am. He almost dropped the beer twice while moving over to check his Lottery ticket numbers. When I left, I saw his keys sitting on top of his van.
Jump back on the bike, drive down the street, slow to make a left. Another car coming opposite direction slows, slows, slows, then stops right in front of my turn. Hard on the brake and clutch, stare her down for several seconds before she realizes I’m parked right next to her. She jumps, waves a half-assed apology, then drives on.
Still on the bike, riding through town, spot a woman working in her yard. She’s wearing shorts and a sleeveless turtle neck, with the turtle neck unrolled and pulled up over her nose. I swore she was headless for a second.
Can’t wait to find out what kind of weirdness I run into when I get out of town and into Peoria proper.
Meanwhile, today is also Flag Day, the only holiday Hallmark doesn’t ram down our throats and guilt us into buying cards for.
Show your patriotism, America! Salute the flag and down a shot. Repeat as needed.